Grieve
by KuraraOkumura
Summary: Her eyes kept coming back to him, in dreams, in nightmares; even awake, he couldn't seem to stop thinking about her. How he missed her... How he wished he'd taken his chance and told her he loved her when he still could. How he wished she was still his, somehow... Somewhere.


The city was dark and unforgiving. Though the sky was clear, and the stars shone brightly, the moon was somehow absent, and the man sitting alone on the docks knew there was a storm brewing.

It was the middle of summer. Sixth of august, to be more precise. The summer had been relatively good for the city's people, neither dry nor wet, somewhere in the middle. Somewhere average.

Nostalgia had taken its hold on the man this year. His thoughts kept straying back to a certain face framed with long, blond hair, pierced with two dreamy eyes and an ever smiling mouth. Soft features, a head perpetually cocked to the side, a continually high pitched voice, always on the verge of a questioning tone, a confident, giddy step... Her eyes kept coming back to him, in dreams, in nightmares; even awake, he couldn't seem to stop thinking about her. How he missed her... How he wished he'd taken his chance and told her he loved her when he still could. How he wished she was still his, somehow... Somewhere.

But now she was gone, out of his grasp and out of his hands. He knew he'd never be able to hold on to her like he longed to, to breath in her fresh apple shampoo and the lingering scent over everything she touched. She didn't belong to him anymore. In truth, he had a he nagging feeling, deep inside, that she had never really belonged to him. Not fully. She belonged to herself, she always had. He'd known this all along, but perhaps he'd always had a hope that one day, she would come to rely on him. She would come to him for advice, for a confidant. But no. She'd never let anybody tell her what to do or say. Never let anyone bring her down. She was so strong, so confident. Not like him. He was always his shy, weak old self.

Sure, the War had strengthened him some, had given him enough confidence and self-appreciation to live the way he'd always wanted to live. But that had only lasted for so much time before his old fears came back and overrid his new, somewhat perfect life. How could it have lasted any longer, when he was too weak to even hold on to _her_... Too weak to love her the way he wanted to. Too afraid...

The man snorted. He was disgusted with himself. Had been for a very long time - ever since she had left him. Ever since she had gone forever, because he had been too weak to hold her back, to keep her by his side... He'd broken his vows. He'd let her be taken away from him, even though he'd promised himself to hold on to her no matter what. There are some things that a man cannot fight, sure. For example a woman's heart. But he had failed her... Had failed himself. How could he ever forgive himself? How could he ever _forget_ something like this, how could he move on knowing that he had lost her and would most likely never see her again...

He couldn't. The answer was as simple as that.

He'd never expected to live in darkness after they were over. He'd thought he'd be dead once they were over. Once their story's future had gone flying out the window in a single, last, agonizing heartbeat. Yet here he was, pondering on his absence of a future now that she was gone. From the very beginning, he hoped - wanted - to share his future with her. To grow old with her, to watch her blonde hair turn silver and her skin wrinkle and her smile remain, through _every single thing_... Together. That's how he'd envisaged his future; together - with her. He'd gone through every possible version of his future, every route and turn and twist and plot, and every time he'd see himself with her, by her side, no matter what. And now... Every one his futures were compromised.

He buried his face in his hands. He _had_ no future. Not anymore. Not without her. Not without _them_. Not without the things he had planned. He'd always known he'd die with her. That they'd die at the same time, because living without the other was too painful. They were soulmates, were they not? But then she'd been taken away from him. Dragged right out of his arms, right from his eyes. And he'd been left there to mourn, to cry on her memory until there was nothing left of her but his own tears. And how painful it was to remember... To want to hear her voice, just one last time, to feel her skin to his and see her lips move once more... Was it too much to ask? Just one last time, one last hope, one last assurance that she was safe and sound somewhere, even though he couldn't reach her, one last second to taste her skin and touch her perfect hair and know that she loved him just as much as he loved her... One last chance...to tell her what he'd never managed to say out loud...the one emotion he'd felt stronger than any other, the one thing that had help him up all those years, and yet he'd been unable to tell her. Pathetic. He was pathetic. Weak.

It was raining now. Light droplets hit the surface of the waters, creating undulations over its surface. The water rippled gently at his feet, splashing against the docks. He stared down, oblivious to the rain drenching his hair and clothes slowly but surely. All he could think about was her. The tears streaming down his face mixed with the rain as he watched. He hadn't even realized he was crying.

He remembered this place. This was where they had first kissed. She loved the sea. He had brought her here on their third date. He'd wanted it to be special. Wasn't three the magic number? The Golden Trio. They'd been three, hadn't they? Before age and years and history had brought them apart. The same way the DA members had grown apart. The same way he had expected to grow apart from her - but hadn't. Their first date and first kiss had brought on many more. Eventually, they had stayed together. Perhaps figuring that no one else would ever care for the other the way they did. Love each other the way they did. And how many times she had told him those three words, and he'd been unable to say them back... And now she was gone. He'd never be able to tell her. Tell her how much she meant to him, how much she'd always meant to him.

A voice behind him brought him back to his senses. He dragged the back of a trembling hand across his face, wiping the tears off his face only for them to be replaced by more tears. Or perhaps it was rain. The voice called again, louder. A child's voice. He stood slowly, pushing himself up and wiping his hands clean on his jeans. He stood there for a few more moments, savouring the place where, exactly ten years ago, he had tasted her lips for the first time. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he stared off into the distance, remembering. Just remembering. Then he turned, away from the water and away from his own sorrow, away from the place that so reminded him of her. He walked away, neither slow nor fast. How he wanted to get away from the pain. And yet how guilty he felt for wanting to leave it all behind him... His feet squished gently in the mud as he walked, walked towards the only future he had now. Maybe she was still a part of it after all. It wasn't really her. Just a part of her legacy. But the little girl bouncing up to him in the rain certainly did look like her, he thought. Just as beautiful, with that same perpetual smile on her face. The same smile as her mother's...

Neville spun his daughter around in his arms, loving the weight of the little girl with her drenched teddy bear clutched between her tiny hands for fear of letting go. Her blond curls trailed down to her narrow waist, and again, Neville realized that this present had one thing that the past had never had. The one thing that they had all fought for for years. The one thing that so many had died for.

Hope.


End file.
